


EVER AFTER

by fanetjuh



Series: Jonsa Week [18]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 23:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: Jon is woken up from an endless slumber, because he is the prince that was promised and the only one who can break the sleeping spell lingering over the Kingdom of Westeros.





	EVER AFTER

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Queenofthebees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees) in the [Like_a_Lady_in_a_song](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Like_a_Lady_in_a_song) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Sleeping Beauty AU
> 
> Written for the Jonsa Candy Hearts event on tumblr

Once Upon A Time, in the faraway Kingdom of Westeros, Jon Snow heard his own name, repeated over and over, piercing the endless darkness of his dreamless sleep.

"Jon? Jon Snow? Jon?" 

Jon moaned. He turned from one side to the other and he reached for his blanket to pull it up and cover his almost freezing body. But no matter how far his hands reached, there was no blanket and no matter how much he tried to slip back into that comfortable slumber, the voice saying his name became louder and louder. 

"Jon Snow!" 

His eyes flashed open and he sat up. A scream escaped his dry lips when he felt the aching pain in his back and the stiffness of all his muscles. His comfortable slumber, the endless darkness of his dreamless sleep, had clearly not come when he had expected it. Instead, he sat on the wooden floor of a dark and way too silent inn. He heard soft snoring. He heard rough breaths and once in a while some coughing and after he had blinked a few times he noticed how everyone around him was still asleep. 

"Jon Snow!" 

He blinked a few more times and then he noticed the pale white female figure in the corner of the inn. She had long red hair covering her curves and she had her legs crossed with her hands folded around her knee. "Who are you?" Jon looked around and he furrowed his eyebrows while he tried to understand the absurdness of this situation. 

"Does it matter?" The female had a sharp and strong voice. "The better question is who are you?" She curled her lips up into a mischievous smile and she cocked her head while her glance rested on the young boy completely dressed in black. 

"You already know my name." Jon pushed himself up and straightened his aching back. He still carried his sword around his waist and the silver and golden coins he expected to be stolen were clattering in his black leather purse. 

"A name is nothing but given by our parents. It doesn't define who we are nor who we can be." The female replied. She had a strange glimmer in her eyes and she kept the sinister smile plastered to her pale white face. "You, Jon Snow, are the prince who was promised. And you, Jon Snow, will be the one breaking the curse keeping the world asleep."

"Me?" Jon widened his eyes and he cleared his throat while he tried not to show the slight nervousness that came over him. "Out of all the soldiers gathered in this inn? Out of all my friends? Out of all the other princes in this kingdom, I am the one to save this world?" 

"You are, my prince. Grab your sword and travel north. Go there where the wind is at its coldest and where not even the breath of a dragon can warm you. And if you have faith that his curse is yours, and only yours, to break I promise that nothing can harm you."

Before Jon could open his mouth to say something, to ask the thousand questions lingering in the back of his mind, the woman had disappeared into thin air. He turned around and again and again. He placed his hands on Samwell Tarly's shoulders and shook him and shook him until he was absolutely certain that his best friend was not gonna move. He searched and searched and searched for someone else who was awake. But eventually he discovered that there had been more truth in the woman's words than he liked. And eventually he decided that if the part of the curse was true, then maybe the part of him being the one to break it was true too. 

For days Jon Snow walked and walked. He crossed little towns and villages. And in all of those towns and villages not one single person, not one single animal was awake. Even the trees seemed to be sleeping. Some frozen in the last moments of summer, wearing their green leaves and overripe fruit. Some frozen in autumn, dressed in the colors of red and yellow and brown. And eventually the trees wore nothing but a layer of snow. They were naked, empty, waiting for the sun to return and warm them. Waiting for the rain to water and feed them. Waiting for the right time to blossom into the beautiful trees they were supposed to be.

It was impossible to say how long it had been since the curse had striked. All the newspapers carried the same date, but Jon knew that not one of them could be correct. No human, no animal, no house had gotten any time older though. Apart from the old castle of Winterfell. 

Jon stood still on the top of the hill looking over what was once called the absolute North. It had always been ruled by the Starks. They had been proud of their achievement, their endurance, their capacity to stay sovereign and independent. But now it seemed like their castle had been the only one touched by time and weather. 

The cold wind howled around Winterfell and blew in Jon's face. The tip of his nose was almost frozen already and his cheeks were warm and probably red from the cold. He remembered the words of the woman, of the witch, that he had to go where the wind was at its coldest and not even the warmth of a dragon could warm him. He wasn't sure if she had been talking about this place. He wasn't sure if she had been talking about anything existing at all, but there was something weird about this place, something different, something that separated this very land from the rest of the Kingdom.

Jon slowed his steps while he walked closer towards the castle. Once it had been without a doubt glorious. He could imagine the banners being blown by the wind and the excited voices, talking, screaming, singing and laughing, in the courtyard. He could imagine a line of soldiers placed on top of the walls to keep an eye on everyone who entered and left, reading their intentions and secret desires. He could imagine a time it had been alive instead of dead. 

He cocked his head while he eventually was close enough to the outer walls to notice the patterns the snow painted on them. Ice-flowers circled around and around and around. One flower melting into the next one and the next one and the next one until it was impossible to say where one flower ended and a new flower began. He stretched out his hand, pale and drained of all color, to touch it, but before the tips of his fingers reached the cold stone walls a roar behind him caught his attention. 

Swiftly, as if he had not been stuck in an endless slumber for way too long, he turned around and grabbed his sword. He tightened his grip around its held and tensed all his muscles when his eyes noticed the dark, tall and huge creature nearing him. 

The dragon was different from all the dragons Jon had seen. He had met green dragons and brown dragons and yellow dragons and red dragons. But not once had he met a blue, almost black one. And he had for sure not met any with eyes in the exact same shade as the ice on the bluest frozen lake he could imagine. 

Jon held his breath while the dragon roared again, already preparing for the ball of fire he would have to avoid since he was not carrying his shield around. But instead of a ball of fire there was a blue cold ball of snow and ice coming his way. Once again he was reminded of the cryptic words of the woman, witch, that he awoken him in the inn. 

This was the right place. This was where not even the fire of a dragon could warm him. 

He jumped aside and the iceball crashed into the already frozen walls. The ice flowers cracked, some broke and tumbled down, shattered in the snow in front of the wall. New flowers started to grow and grow, eating the others, covering them completely until the old flowers had faded and were all replaced by new ones. 

How many princes had already tried to break the curse? How many bodies were buried under the piles of snow? How many men had ended as dinner, in the stomach of the very monster that was now hunting his next meal? 

Jon didn't allow himself to think about it. He would only end up afraid, terrified, paralyzed by the fear rushing through his veins. If he would freeze, he would without a doubt die. If he would fight, there was a small chance that he could outsmart the hungry monster and could continue his quest to find the very source of the silence in Westeros. 

But the monster had clearly fought many battles before. For its size it moved quick and swift. And not only the beast itself was growling, but so was its stomach that had clearly not had any prince, any soldier, any man, for a very long time. 

Jon's muscles were a little stiff, but they remembered each move from the countless hours of training, from the countless classes and lessons, from all the bruises he had gotten because he had failed to pay attention or listen. They avoided the bundles of ice. They avoided the sharp and long claws trying to grab him. They forced him to roll down and hurry to his feet at the exact right moment. Time after time again he filled his lungs with cold air. Time after time again he swung his sword and circled around the monster that kept its ice blue eyes firmly on him. 

But eventually, his muscles started to hurt. His chest moved up and down way too quickly and his heart couldn't keep up with the bewildered animal anymore. He could barely keep his eyes open. Blood sept from wounds and scratches all over his body and eventually, in one last breath of desperation, he threw his sword at the angry beast. 

He was Jon Snow. He was the prince who was promised. He would break this curse and save the kingdom from the endless slumber and dreamless sleep. He would not die at the hands of a monster. He would not end up as its breakfast, its lunch or its dinner. 

His sword pierced the frozen skin of the ice dragon and once it went straight through its heart ice blue blood dripped in the bright white snow. The ice Dragon roared once, twice, three times and then it fell backwards on the ground. The world trembled, the castle walls from Winterfell moved back and forth and then there was nothing but absolute silence. 

Jon Snow pushed himself up. He tried to wipe the snow and dirt and blood away and then he crawled towards the beast to get his sword back. With its blue blood still dripping from the blade Jon Snow started to climb the walls. He didn't mind that his feet were freezing. He didn't mind that he could barely move his fingers. He didn't mind that the rough stones ripped open the superficial wounds that had already started healing. He kept on climbing and climbing until he reached the top of the wall. And then he climbed even further and further until he reached the open window in the highest tower. 

White curtains danced in the cold winter wind. The ice flowers had reached the inside and a spinning wheel twirled around and around and around in one of the corners of the room. On the bed lay a beautiful young woman. She had her hands folded in her lap. Her red hair circled her face like a halo, its color even more vivid because it laid on a bright white pillow. She wore a bright white dress with short sleeves, as if she had been playing in the garden in summer. And still her lips weren't blue. Her cheeks weren't red and her fingers and toes weren't frozen.

Jon held his breath. He remembered her. He remembered her all too well. He remembered how she had danced. How she had smiled. How she had been his centre of the party. How he had been pulled towards her, no matter how much he had tried to keep his distance. He remembered how she had drank red wine. How she had enjoyed the embraces of handsome young men and how she had looked at him and only him with her bright big eyes filled with wonder. 

She had left Dragonstone eventually, accompanied by her parents, her brothers, her sister. One day she would have returned to him and Jon had promised himself to wait for that day, to wait for her, and to then gather the courage to ask her if she would want to be his wife. 

It seemed that time and fate had caught up with him. She had not been the one returning to him. He had been the one coming to her. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed for a few long seconds. He wiped a few loose strands of bright red hair from her face. He smiled while he stared at her beauty, at the slight smile playing around her blood red lips. Then he leaned in until his nose brushed hers. He took a few more breaths, hesitated, wondered if kissing her would indeed break the curse, but he remembered the words of the red haired witch that had visited him and sent him here. He was the prince that was promised and he alone could break this spell. Maybe he hadn't been the only one waiting for his princess charming. Maybe she had been waiting for him all this time too. 

His lips touched hers. Hers were surprisingly warm and soft and Jon counted to five, to ten, to thirty. How long should a true love's kiss last? How long until she would open her eyes and wake up? How long until the world would come back to live again? He counted to sixty. To a hundred. To a thousand. And eventually he straightened his back, his hand going through his hair while he wondered what he had done wrong. 

"Jon?" 

Sansa Stark blinked. A tear escaped her eye, rolled down her cheek and fell onto the pillow. She blinked again and again until her sleepy eyes had gotten used to the light of day. The slight smile on her face brightened when her glance met his. "I hoped it would be you." She pushed herself up and the palm of her hand touched his blushing cheek. "I knew it would be you." She closed her eyes again and leaned in to kiss his lips this time. "It had to be you." She whispered and Jon wrapped his arms around her while she moved closer and closer, until it was impossible to get any closer, towards him.

Around them the world woke up, slowly, step by step and wave by wave. But Sansa and Jon didn't notice it. They didn't notice the snow melting. They didn't notice the animals waking from their long winter sleep. They didn't notice the raised voices and nearing summer. Their world, their perfect little world, was now small enough to fit in their arms.

All Jon had wanted was breaking the curse. But what he had found was his happily ever after.


End file.
